New Leaf
by anondecepticon
Summary: 07 Movieverse AU. The war is over, and the Decepticons have fled Earth. A severely damaged Skywarp is left behind. In desperation, he turns to the Autobots. How far will he go to ensure his own survival?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: New Leaf  
**Obligatory Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers.  
**Warning(s)**: Implied slash, implied prostitution, references to P&P and sparksex, extreme angst-wankage.  
**Author's Note:** Another Kink Meme prompt. Written pre-RotF, and Skywarp wasn't in either film anyway, so consider it an AU.  
**Backstory:** Following the battle at Mission City, Starscream left Earth to gather reinforcements, then returned to get revenge against the Autobots and their human allies for destroying Megatron and the Allspark. Predictably, he blew it. All the Decepticons were either destroyed or fled the Earth...save one.

Skywarp onlined slowly, and immediately wished he hadn't. It was bad. _Really_ bad. Consciousness was utter _agony_. It felt like every sensory circuit he possessed had been stripped raw, dipped in acid, and left exposed and screaming. When he initiated an internal diagnostic cycle to assess his status, the onslaught of red, flashing glyphs that appeared on his HUD removed all doubt that he was anything other than completely and thoroughly _slagged_.

For several breems he stared uncomprehendingly at the display, CPU struggling to assimilate the information contained in those endlessly scrolling lines of text, but it useless. Hampered by pain and functioning at less-than-optimal capacity, he couldn't focus on any one glyph in the unceasing tide long enough to absorb its meaning. It was almost hypnotic, the way they glided by, flickering an-

He onlined again several joors later, unaware that he'd slipped offline or how long he'd been out. His CPU was clearer; the pain intense but bearable. His internal diagnostics informed him that his regenerative systems were operating at only thirty-two percent, but they _were_ functioning, and had already begun repair on his most critical injuries.

Of course there was a bigger problem. His energon reserves were almost tapped. Had they been at full or even half capacity, he could have waited out the repairs. There'd have been a chance that the Autobots would discover him before he was functional enough to defend himself, but a roughly equal chance of being found by his fellow Decepticons. He could have lived with that.

But it was a moot point, because as things stood he was scrap either way. He couldn't raid one of the human insects' energy stockpiles in his current operational status, and allowing his regenerative systems to repair him to a point where he _could_ would consume the remainder of his dwindling energy reserves. He'd slip into stasis before he ever got off the ground.

Actually, stasis lock and the faint hope of being found and repaired by friendly forces was pretty much the end result of every scenario he calculated. Completing the repairs would do it. Lying here doing nothing would do it, too. The only thing that wouldn't _definitely_ do it was permitting his regenerative systems to perform a partial repair, just enough to restore him to minimal function. He'd be grounded and crippled, an easy target even for the squishies, but at least he wouldn't be _completely_ helpless.

That part appealed to him. Thundercracker had gone down fighting, and so would he.

The tricky part would be figuring out what came _after_ that. The fact that he hadn't been found or commed suggested that the Decepticons had been routed from the planet. Odds were good they weren't coming back. Starscream was stubborn enough to try, but after the devastating losses they'd suffered in his attempt to pick up where Megatron left off, the former second-in-command would have a hard time finding anyone still willing to follow him. Even Skywarp, arguably one of the more loyal 'Cons under Megatron, was forced to conclude that maybe it just wasn't worth it anymore.

The thought forced an involuntary keen from his vocalizer. The Allspark was _gone_. The Decepticon cause, the cause for Cybertron, might have withstood the loss of Megatron, but not the Allspark. Nothing could save their planet now. The mechs that had fallen in the last battle had died for nothing, given up their sparks for a hopeless cause.

He wondered if that wasn't why so many had agreed to fight Starscream's battle in the first place.

A black mood enveloped him. Suddenly lying here and letting himself slip into stasis sounded downright appealing. Why struggle to remain operational when everything was hopeless anyway?

If Thundercracker had still been online, he'd have gotten up. _TC's waiting for me_ would have been all the reason he needed to keep going. Of course if Thundercracker were still online, Skywarp wouldn't be lying here, alone and abandoned. He keened again, brokenly.

He couldn't give up. He literally _couldn't_. His core program, the program of a warrior, wouldn't allow it. Warriors fell in battle or lived to fight the next one. They didn't _give up_. Not even if they wanted to.

He initiated the command to his regenerative systems, ordering them to halt repairs at forty percent, and then powered down into a modified recharge cycle, intent on conserving as much of his remaining energon as possible.

He onlined feeling a _lot_ better than forty percent of optimal. That alone was enough to make him suspicious. The lack of flashing crimson glyphs spamming his HUD only confirmed it. He'd been repaired.

A quick diagnostic revealed the rest of the story. Armor, circuitry, vital systems, CPU, all at one hundred percent of optimal. Energon reserves stable at eighty percent. Comms, weapons, navigation – none of which had been critically damaged when he'd crashed – all offline.

The conclusion was obvious. He'd been taken prisoner by the Autobots.

And for some insane reason, they'd _fixed_ him.

He sensed movement nearby, followed by the faint tingle of a scan.

"You're online," a voice commented.

_Frag._ "I don't know anything."

The Autobot clicked dubiously. "We'll see."

He didn't say anything more, and Skywarp took the opportunity to unshutter his optics and assess his surroundings. He was lying on his back, inside some sort of elongated structure that didn't resemble anything built on Cybertron.

Still on Earth, then. That made sense. He hadn't been offline _that_ long. Given its shoddy construction, the structure had to have been made by those puny organics. The Autobots were probably just using it as a temporary base of operations.

In a way, that was a good thing. Back on Cybertron he'd have been put in a cell, behind energon bars. Here, there might be a chance to escape…

His spirits sank almost as quickly as they'd risen. What was the point? Where would he go? They'd disabled his weapons, his comms, his warp capability, they'd even taken his ability to fly – which meant even if he _did_ manage to get away, he'd still be stuck on this mudball of a planet, grounded, defenseless, with no way to call for help.

_Not that anyone would answer,_ he thought grimly.

He understood now why they hadn't bothered to restrain him. They didn't _need_ to.

But why bother repairing him at all? Why not just deactivate him?

"Why am I online?" he asked hesitantly. What did he have to lose? "Why repair me? Why not just _finish_ it?"

"Prime's orders," came the curt reply. "Believe me, I was against it."

"I don't know anything," Skywarp said again. It was actually true. He didn't know where the other Decepticons had gone, or what, if anything, Starscream might be planning. If the Autobots were keeping him online so that they could interrogate him, they were in for a major disappointment.

He sat up cautiously, keeping his movements slow and innocuous. The Autobot – he presumed it was the medic, given the earlier scan and the few statements he'd offered – eyed him distrustfully but made no objection.

He startled rather badly when a large section of what he'd initially taken for part of the wall rolled back on noisy casters, revealing a large opening that was almost immediately blocked by an even larger Autobot.

Skywarp regarded the new arrival warily. He recognized this one. _Ironhide._ Prime's bodyguard and weapons specialist. Not a mech he'd want to tangle with one-on-one, especially not with most of his combat systems disabled.

The hulking black mech glared back at him, making no effort to conceal his hostility. He spoke to the medic without taking his optics off Skywarp. "He functional?"

"As good as he's going to get," the medic replied tartly.

"Weapons?"

"Deactivated. I know my job."

"Optimus wants me to bring him."

"I know," the medic retorted churlishly. "I commed him, he commed you."

Ironhide muttered irritably, then addressed the wary Seeker. "On your feet, Decepticon. Follow me."

Not wanting to get himself slagged, Skywarp complied.

Prime had insisted on meeting with him alone. Ironhide wasn't happy about that. Frankly neither was Skywarp, but for entirely different reasons. In the end, the Autobot leader placated his soldier with a compromise: Ironhide took up a guard position outside the door of the second structure – a twin to the one Skywarp had onlined in – while the Seeker stepped inside to face the music.

He'd forgotten how slagging _big_ the Prime was.

He stared up at the towering mech with what he hoped was a defiant expression. He already had his suspicions about the nature of this little meeting, but he'd be fragged if he'd give Prime any indication that he cared one iota either way.

"You were found offline not far from the site of the last battle," the Autobot leader informed him. "Ratchet reports that you were severely damaged, and that your energon levels were near depletion."

Skywarp remained sullenly silent. Prime wasn't telling him anything he didn't know already, or couldn't have guessed on his own.

"I ordered my medic to perform the necessary repairs to bring you back to optimal function – minus your combat systems, of course. I would be willing to consider restoring those as well, but for that I would first require some assurances from you."

_I knew it._ Skywarp shuttered his optics briefly in resignation. _Slagslagslagsl–_

With more confidence than he felt, he replied, "What kind of assurances?"

"Your cooperation," was the reply.

Skywarp gritted his denta. Well, _Pit_, it wasn't like he hadn't done it before. Of course the thought of engaging in that particular form of negotiation with an Autobot – with _Optimus_-fragging-_Prime_, no less – was enough to make his fuel tank churn, but it wasn't like he had anything _else_ to barter. No information, no energon – ha, if he'd had any energon he wouldn't _be_ in this Primus-forsaken situation – and nothing else of value beyond what lay under his plating.

"Understood," he ground out. He took a moment to steel himself, and then _lunged_.

He felt Prime tense under his claws as he dug them into the gaps in the Autobot's armor, searching for sensitive circuitry. He heard the Autobot gasp as he groped impatiently, hoping he could bring the semi to a quick overload and be done with it.

After a startled moment, he was shoved roughly back. He reached for the Autobot again, but Prime seized him by the shoulders, holding him at arm's length, out of reach of his chassis.

"Skywarp," he intoned solemnly, "This behavior is not appropriate."

The Seeker stared at him in shock, scarcely believing his audials. Then he understood. "Right," he replied bitterly. "You're the _Prime_," He spat the title from his vocalizer like an obscenity.

_Naturally_ the Autobot leader wouldn't stoop to taking the _submissive_ role. Megatron never had, either. And it figured he'd insist on an uplink rather than settling for a simple overload. That way, he could collect his payment _and_ confirm Skywarp's claim of ignorance, all at the same time. Say what you would about the Autobots, it was clear Optimus Prime was no fool.

Skywarp slowly lowered his arms, relaxing his posture, and the Autobot leader released him. He backed away a few steps, keeping his optics lowered, his manner unthreatening – _submissive, keep it submissive, Skywarp, remember you're the supplicant here_ – and hoped Prime didn't notice the way his claws were trembling as he reached for the panel concealing his interface circuitry and pried it open.

He could feel Prime's optics on him, but the Autobot made no move to accept his offering. Skywarp cycled his vents uneasily and said, "Go on. Plug in."

"I think you've misunderstood my intentions, Skywarp," Prime informed him calmly.

The Seeker stiffened as if he'd been struck, his optics wide with shock. He wasn't suggesting – Prime couldn't _seriously_ be expecting him to offer up his _spark–!?_

He couldn't quite keep the crackle of static from his vocalizer as he replied cautiously, "Have I?"

"Yes," Prime replied. "I'm not interested in uplinking with you."

_Sweet Primus._ His claws curled into fists. He wanted to scream at the larger mech, tell him he had no _right_ to demand that Skywarp bare his fragging _spark_ for him. But the Seeker knew he could hardly refuse, not when his life, his future _existence_ was on the table. He was obviously in no position to haggle over the price.

A bitter, caustic blend of terror and outrage surged in his spark, threatening to overwhelm him. That coupled with the effort it took to try and conceal it left the Seeker visibly shaking as he transmitted the command to reveal his spark chamber, willing his chest plates to part.

They opened a bare inch, and then halted.

_Primus, as if this situation wasn't humiliating enough!_ Spark merging was rarely engaged in among Decepticons – most wouldn't allow another to get that close – and Skywarp himself had only done it on a handful of occasions. The first time had been a lot like this. It'd taken a lot of coaxing, a lot of reassurance and gentle touches to finally get those plates to part fully. TC had always been the patient one.

A low, desperate keen escaped his vocalizer as he tugged stubbornly at the gap, trying to force it wider. _Stupid, don't think about that, don't think about _him_, just get it _open_, get it _over_ with, you can _do_ this–_

Large hands closed over his, firm but gentle.

The Seeker started, optics jerking upward to meet the Prime's. Panic flared in his spark at seeing the Autobot so _close_, especially when his core was exposed and vulnerable. Another keening whine slipped from him as he began to struggle against the other's grip. _Oh, Primus, I can't do this, I can't do this, I can– _

"Skywarp."

The sound of his own designation jolted him out of his panic-induced stupor. He stared into the Autobot leader's azure optics, and actually _saw_ them this time. They held neither anger nor lust, but instead a strange expression he couldn't quite interpret. Sorrow? Pity?

"I apologize for giving you the wrong impression, Skywarp," the Prime said. "I didn't realize the Deceptions still adhered to that particular…tradition. If I had, I would have chosen my words more carefully."

The Autobot leader lifted the Seeker's claws carefully, guiding them to urge his chest plates closed rather than forcing them apart.

"You don't have to demonstrate your sincerity, or repay me for ordering Ratchet to repair you. At least, not in the way you were thinking. All I require from you is the willingness to coexist with us and our human allies peacefully."

Skywarp stared up at him, too stunned to respond.

Prime smiled. "If you can do that, you are welcome to stay with us. We will provide you with whatever you require – energon, repairs – and we will treat you as one of our own. Regardless of which faction we fought for in the war, we are all Cybertronians, and with the Allspark gone, we are all that's left. The war is over, and I refuse to sacrifice any more lives to it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: New Leaf  
**Obligatory Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers.  
**Warning(s)**: None, really. It's all chat. Skywarp's potty mouth?

He'd agreed to stay.

Truth be told, at the time he'd been too mortified to argue. He couldn't decide which was worse – the fact that he'd actually offered his _spark_ to _the Prime_, or the fact that the Autobot leader had _turned him down_. Skywarp wasn't sure if he should be relieved or offended. Embarrassed was the compromise.

But even if he'd taken the time to think it over, his response would have been the same. He didn't have anywhere else to _go_. There was no point returning to Cybertron; by now the planet was nothing more than a rusted-out slag heap.

Rejoining the Decepticons also held little appeal. Those that had survived would be as damaged, energon-starved and desperate as Skywarp had been, which meant the Seeker would spend more time looking over his shoulder with _them_ than he did here in the heart of enemy territory.

In any case, there wasn't a mech left among them Skywarp gave a frag about, and more than a few he'd prefer to avoid. So even if Prime had been willing to restore his disabled combat functions and release him, Skywarp had little reason to leave.

It wasn't as if the Autobot leader's conditions were all that hard to fulfill – play nice, don't squish the squishies. Skywarp could do that. Especially if it netted him repairs and energon. Most especially if it got his disabled systems brought back online.

Of course the second part would take time. He knew that. The Prime might have been willing to give Skywarp the benefit of the doubt, but the mechs under his command weren't quite so forgiving. He'd overheard them arguing about it, heard the medic – Ratchet – saying it was a bad idea to let Skywarp remain on the base, and Ironhide predicting the Seeker would slag them all in their recharge the first chance he got.

Not that he'd been _eavesdropping_. He'd just happened to be walking by.

So he'd waited. He'd done his best to mimic Thundercracker's patience, and for the better part of the next stellar cycle he'd been on his very best behavior.

Well, _mostly_.

Ok, so _maybe_ sneaking into the hangar Ironhide used as his personal quarters while the Autobot was in recharge and inscribing _FRAG ME_ on his back in neat Cybertronian glyphs hadn't been the brightest idea, but it _had_ been _funny._ The weapons specialist had walked around for the better part of an Earth day before one of the squishies finally asked him about it.

Naturally Ironhide had wanted to slag him for it, but the Prime hadn't seemed too fragged off, and Skywarp had spotted the medic snickering quietly when he thought no one was looking. He wasn't sure if any of them realized the prank had been a direct response to Ironhide's offhand comment, but either way, Skywarp figured he'd made his point.

Apart from that, he'd been good. He hadn't caused any damage to the base, or squished any squishies.

But it was driving him _crazy_.

To be fair, being imprisoned by the Autobots was probably a lot more relaxing than freedom would have been ("freedom" in this context meaning defending his vital components from scavenging Decepticons, and "imprisonment" meaning he could move freely about the Autobot base, as long as he didn't leave it) but even so, Skywarp was plagued by a feeling of near-constant unease.

It wasn't the hostility-bordering-on-hatred that he sensed from the Autobots living on the makeshift base, or the fleshies that visited it, that bothered him. Pit, for a former Decepticon, that sort of thing was almost _normal_.

No, it was the fact that all his combat systems were _offline_. Without them, he was only half a mech, a warrior without a war. He couldn't fulfill his core directives. He couldn't fly, he couldn't train, couldn't even leave the base like the Autobots often did, exploring their new planet or visiting their squishy companions. He didn't have any duties to speak of. He was just...idle.

_Bored._

In hindsight, that was probably what caused the incident.

The former Decepticon had been innocently basking in the desert sun with most of his primary systems powered down when the human diplomat, too curious for his own good, had ventured too close, triggering Skywarp's external sensors, which in turn sent a perimeter alert warning to the Seeker's drowsing CPU.

His defensive programming had activated automatically, responding to the "threat" within the span of an astrosecond. Skywarp managed to initiate the override command in time to prevent himself from turning the puny organic into a puny organic stain on the ground, but the near-miss left the Seeker shaken and out of sorts, and he'd ended up snarling and brandishing his claws at the intrusive insect as he cursed him for his stupidity.

Skywarp could admit that had been a mistake, that he'd lost his temper, but was it _his_ fault the stupid squishy had been so frightened, he'd sprung a leak and ended up drenched in his own lubricant? No, of course not! The fleshy had obviously been constructed with substandard parts, and he should have known better than to sneak up on a Seeker, anyway.

But it had happened, and now Skywarp once again found himself standing outside the hangar designated as the Prime's, waiting to face the music. Prime was sure to be torqued off – the Autobot leader was strangely protective when it came to the squishies – but Skywarp was determined to stand his ground. He'd tell Prime _his_ side of the story, plead his case. He'd tell the Autobot leader that he _needed_ his systems back online.

He opened the door, and stepped inside.

Skywarp entered to find the Prime seated on one of the wheeled rectangular metal boxes – the squishies called them "boxcars" – that the humans had brought onto the makeshift base to serve as furniture for their oversized alien allies. The Autobot leader appeared strangely pensive at first glance, but when his azure optics met Skywarp's crimson, all traces of that brief expression were gone, replaced by a look of resigned tolerance.

The look made Skywarp vaguely uncomfortable, causing him to shift his weight uneasily.

_Well, whatever. At least Prime didn't look angry._

"I assume you know why I pinged you?" the Autobot leader inquired calmly.

"It wasn't _my_ fault," Skywarp retorted defensively. "That stupid squi– er, _human_ startled me! And anyway, I didn't hurt him! I didn't lay a claw on him! I just rumbled at him a little, so he'd back off."

He couldn't resist adding in an undertone, "Shouldn't have been that close to me in the first place. Stupid insect."

Prime nodded slowly. "I appreciate the effort you're making, Skywarp. But I'm afraid I must ask you to try harder. Our human allies are uneasy enough around you. Many of them have questioned the wisdom of my decision to allow you to remain here with us. One or two have even requested that I turn you over to them for study, so that they can continue the work they began with Megatron–"

Skywarp's optics widened in disgust and disbelief. The subsonic snarl that slipped instinctively from his vocalizer rattled the metal walls of the hangar.

"...but you needn't worry," Optimus assured him quickly, "I have no intention of doing anything of the kind. The humans are a young species; their moral code is still somewhat...underdeveloped. Rest assured, as long as I have any say in the matter, you will not be surrendered to their scientists under any circumstances."

Skywarp practically slumped in relief. For a moment he'd been genuinely worried that Prime really _did_ intend to hand him over to his pet squishies. He _had_ threatened one, after all. By Decepticon standards, it would have been considered a fitting punishment.

"But you must put more effort into controlling your behavior, Skywarp," Prime continued. "Each...mistake like this one, each instance of you acting out lends further strength to the humans' argument that you are a threat to them, one that needs to be contained or eliminated. Each time an incident like this occurs, it becomes increasingly difficult to argue in your defense."

The Autobot leader's tone was matter-of-fact, not chiding nor accusatory. So why the frag did Skywarp suddenly feel like a scolded sparkling?

Rumbling defensively, the Seeker activated his vocalizer to argue _his_ side, to level his own set of charges against the Prime as he'd planned –

But then he caught the fleeting look on the Autobot's faceplate, the one Prime quickly tried to hide.

The Prime looked _weary_. Terribly, unutterably weary. Not just _in-need-of-a-few-orns'-recharge_ tired. _Bearing-the-weight-of-the-universe-on-his-shoulder-struts_ exhausted.

A mech on the verge of total burnout.

Prime cycled a sigh through his intakes. "I realize it's been difficult for you here, Skywarp. I'm sorry to have to ask you for more, but I'm afraid there's no other choice."

The Seeker closed his mouth again, his argument unvocalized. He simply nodded, agreed to try harder, and departed Prime's quarters without another word.

What the frag was _wrong_ with him? He should have argued! He should have said _something_. So what if Prime said he was _sorry_? "Sorry" didn't get Skywarp's combat systems back online!

Even if the Autobot leader _did_ sound like he really _meant_ it.

Skywarp had been more than a little disconcerted by that. His spark had done this queer little _flutter_, and he'd suddenly had the urge to try and _comfort_ Prime, to tell him it was okay.

Which was completely ridiculous. It _wasn't_ okay, he was going stir-crazy here, he wasn't allowed to fight or fly, he had stupid squishies sneaking up on him, wanting to use him for a _science experiment_, and the best Prime had to offer him was some lame _apology_? Frag _that_!

But still...

It was just..._weird_. It was like he somehow _knew_ that as hard as things were for him, for the Prime they were even worse. Which made no sense at all.

_Prime_ wasn't the glorified POW with half his circuits offline indefinitely, _Skywarp_ was. Prime was the one everyone was always clamoring to see, the one everyone _loved_; Skywarp was the one they hated and did their best to avoid.

So why did Skywarp feel like _he_ was the _lucky_ one?


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: New Leaf  
**Obligatory Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers.  
**Warning(s)**: Slash, robot pronz, a teeny-weeny hint of dub-con  
**Author's Note:** The last chapter was a bit short, but this one ran long, so it's all good. This is the final chapter, although I may at some point write a follow-up fic. Skywarp is a blast to write, and I think it'd be fun to explore the reactions of the humans and the other 'Bots…

It took him three Earth days to talk himself into confronting the Prime again.

He got as far as the door to the Autobot leader's hangar before he lost his nerve.

"C'mon, Skywarp," he muttered to himself, "Just _ping_ him already! What are you, _Starscream _now? Gonna kiss aft an' grovel just because he's _bigger_ than you? So what if he's big! So what if he's the slagging _Prime!_ So what if you can't warp to the other side of the planet if you frag him off – wait, that's not helping..."

He huffed through his intakes. _Maybe I should just go circle the perimeter again..._

The door opened.

"Skywarp," the Prime greeted him calmly. He didn't question the Seeker's presence outside his quarters. Pit, he didn't even look _surprised_.

_Tell him, Skywarp! Remember all that slag you planned to say? Say it!_

When the former Decepticon just stared at him, Prime added, "Was there something you needed?"

"Um...no. Not really."

(It was at this point that Skywarp's inner voice threw up its hands and stormed out in disgust.)

The Autobot leader regarded the fidgeting Seeker thoughtfully. "Would you like to come in?"

Skywarp hesitated a moment, then shrugged and went in. At least this way he'd still have a chance to plead his case.

Just as soon as he got his vocalizer to function for more than five syllables.

Prime moved to take a seat on the boxcar while Skywarp glanced around uneasily. He'd half expected to find one of the other 'Bots here since he hadn't seen any of them wandering around the base, but Prime's quarters were empty of all but their primary occupant.

Plus himself, of course.

The Autobot leader was looking at him expectantly, so the Seeker said the first thing that popped into his CPU.

"Where's Ironhead and the grouch?"

_Oh slag, did he just say that out loud?_

Prime seemed amused. "Ironhide is currently visiting with the Lennox family. Ratchet is "on call" assisting the local humans with what they call "emergency services."

"Oh. Right."

A long, awkward silence stretched out between them, the Prime obnoxiously relaxed and at ease, the Seeker fidgeting restlessly, his optics flicking nervously about the room as if looking for handy escape routes.

That is, until they settled on something…unusual.

"Is that energon?" he asked, optics fixed upon the curious object. It looked like energon, scintillated and swirled and glowed like energon, but it was housed in an odd cylindrical container instead of the standard cube.

Prime followed the former Decepticon's gaze. "In a sense, yes. Ratchet has been working on synthesizing a useable form of energon from the fuel sources available here on Earth. That's from one of the latest test batches."

"Is it any good?" Skywarp asked.

"Difficult to say," the Autobot leader replied. "We can only test it on ourselves, and for the sake of safety we can only do so in small quantities. It's certainly…potent."

Skywarp dialed up his audials at that. "How potent?"

Prime still sounded amused. "You're welcome to try some if you like. Ratchet did say that as many of us as possible should sample it, to ensure it's compatible with all Cybertronian systems."

The Seeker deliberated for all of an astrosecond before sweeping up the container and taking a gulp of its contents.

It was _foul_. Skywarp didn't know what he'd been expecting, but that _wasn't_ it. The substance – calling it energon was far too generous – had a heavy, _organic_ flavor and a raw, unrefined quality that made the crudest low-grade seem smooth and decadent by comparison. The Seeker shuddered and grimaced at the aftertaste stubbornly clinging to his glossa.

"Well?" The Autobot was definitely amused.

"Tastes like slag," Skywarp replied, defiantly taking another swig.

Oh, but it had a _kick_ to it! The taste was utterly _vile_, but the Seeker was pretty sure that he could get well and truly overcharged on the stuff – provided he could keep from purging his tanks long enough to do it.

"I'm glad you approve," Prime said, a hint of laughter in his vocalizer.

The former Decepticon slammed the container down, suddenly overtaken by a surge of irritation.

_So I'm _funny_ now, am I?_ he thought sulkily. Just who did the Prime think he was laughing at?

"I _don't_ approve," he retorted with a snarl. "It sucks. Just like everything else on this slagging base. Like everything on this whole stupid _planet_."

His scathing words were met with a long, pensive silence.

"I didn't realize you were so...unhappy here," the Autobot leader said finally.

He no longer sounded amused.

"Well what did you _expect_?" Skywarp snapped. "You had me stripped down to my base programming! What, am I supposed to _thank_ you for that? Gee, I'm sorry! _Thanks so much_ for turning me into a useless pile of walking _scrap_!"

"Skywarp..."

"Don't call me that! I don't _deserve_ that designation anymore! I can't fly, I can't warp, so it's just – _I'm_ just a big slagging _joke_! Why not cut off my arms while you're at it? Or my wings – it's not like I've got any use for _them_ anymore – Pit, why didn't you just _offline_ me from the start? It'd be better than _this_! Frag!"

_Wow. That...didn't come out at _all_ like he'd planned._

It seemed to have been effective, though. The Prime was staring at him with a satisfyingly _guilty_ look in his optics. Skywarp resisted the urge to smirk in triumph.

"I'm sorry."

And just like that, the Seeker's victory was swept out from under him, toppling like that building he'd leveled a couple vorns back, the one he'd hit _just right_, so that it hadn't so much collapsed as _disintegrated_ into a heap of rubble.

How the frag did Prime _do_ that, anyway?

"I've already explained why we can't restore your weapons systems at this time," Prime informed him. "Regrettably, that position remains unchanged. However, I see no reason why your flight and warp capabilities can't be restored – provided you agree to use them responsibly."

Skywarp stared at the Autobot leader in amazed disbelief. Had he just...won?

"Well," he stammered. "...good."

"You're not alone, Skywarp," the Autobot said gently. "The details may differ, but we're all trying to find our paths again. We're all feeling…displaced. It's always easier, more comfortable for we Cybertronians when we have our core programs to fall back on."

Prime moved to stand beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder-strut, "But we're also more than the sum of our programming. We can learn new ways to function when the old ways no longer serve our purpose. We can adapt."

"Maybe _you_ can," the Seeker muttered.

"The Autobots weren't originally programmed for combat, but when the war began we became warriors, because warriors were what was needed," Prime replied. "I see no reason why the reverse can't also be true. Just because you were originally programmed for war, doesn't mean you can't learn to function in a time of peace."

"What if you're wrong?" Skywarp asked.

"I don't think I am," the Prime assured him. "You've already begun. Would the _old_ Skywarp have spared that human's life?"

The former Decepticon stiffened, startled. Attacking the intruding insect had been instinctive, automatic – but stopping before he squished the stupid thing had been almost reflexive, too.

"The humans have a saying," Prime continued. "They call it 'turning over a new leaf.' It means to begin again; peeling away the old layer to expose the new."

Skywarp couldn't help but smirk at that. "You saying you want to get under my plating?" he asked teasingly, turning to face the taller mech and shrinking the small distance remaining between them. "Thought you weren't interested."

The look on the Autobot's faceplate was _priceless_. It was almost worth all the slag he'd been through, just to see the Prime caught off-balance for once.

But he recovered all too quickly. It was kind of disappointing. "I'm saying that just because the war is over, doesn't mean you've lost all purpose. You can find new purpose, a new core directive, here on Earth, with us."

"What about you?" the Seeker asked suddenly.

"Me?" Prime seemed surprised by the question.

"Yeah," he replied. "War's over, Allspark's gone, Cybertron's in the smelter; so you're not really the Prime anymore, are you? I mean, Prime of what, right?" The former Decepticon edged just that tiny bit closer, so that his cockpit scraped against Prime's windshield. "So what _are_ you now?" He smirked, shifting just slightly, glass grinding against glass. "What's under _your_ plating?"

_There's that look again. Primus, I think I _love_ that look._ The Seeker couldn't help grinning. Prime was so much more _interesting_ when he was flustered!

If you thought about it, his gleeful reaction wasn't all that surprising. Underneath it all, it was who Skywarp was, _what_ he was. Pranks, jokes, even warping – it all boiled down to the same thing – catching the other mech off-guard, taking him by surprise.

And the Prime was definitely _caught._

Truth be told, Skywarp was feeling a little...off-balance himself. Maybe it was that experimental energon, or the prospect of getting his wings and warp generator back at long last, or maybe it was just that he hadn't overloaded in decacycles – but whatever the reason, the flirtation he'd initiated in jest didn't feel entirely like a joke anymore. His core temperature had risen a couple of degrees, and the Seeker found himself eyeing the Autobot in a decidedly speculative, appraising sort of way.

What _was_ under that plating?

It was as if their roles had suddenly been reversed. Now it was the Prime who was resetting his vocalizer and shifting his components in a discomfited way, while Skywarp stood at ease, relaxed and confident.

"I will always be Prime," the Autobot said. "No matter what happens, that will never change."

The resignation in his tone surprised the former Decepticon.

"Even if you don't want to be?" Skywarp asked.

"It is an honor to be Prime," the Autobot replied. "But yes, even then."

He wasn't sure what made him do it. The decision to extend his energy field to brush and flicker against the Prime's was almost…instinctive.

The Autobot leader noticed immediately, backing quickly out of range, but in the astrosecond before he did so, Skywarp felt the way Prime's energy field _reached_ for him, and suddenly it all made sense. Resistant as he might be, some part of Prime _wanted_ what the Seeker was offering…and Skywarp had a good idea why.

"I thought I made it clear to you, Skywarp," the Prime said. "That sort of…payment is neither expected, nor desired."

"Who said anything about payment?" the former Decepticon asked, closing in on him once more. "I'm not doing this because I _owe_ you, Prime."

Blue optics met crimson. "Then why _are_ you doing it?"

Skywarp shrugged, smirking. "Maybe I'm bored," he replied coyly. "Maybe I'm overcharged. Maybe I just wanna find out what kind of noise the Prime makes when he overloads. Who knows?"

The Autobot stiffened as the Seeker pressed into him once more, energy field tickling at his external sensors, light and teasing.

"Skywarp," he warned. "This is not appropriate."

"Oh, come _on_," the former Decepticon retorted impatiently. "Your 'Bots might buy into that whole 'untouchable Prime' act, but don't try to con a 'Con. You need this more than I do."

"What?" the Prime sounded truly startled.

"You didn't think I'd notice? I know all about your type, Prime. It's easy; you're the complete opposite of me." Skywarp grinned, trailing a clawtip over the Autobot's chestplate.

"See, I'm a selfish mech," the Seeker explained. "I take what I want; I don't give a frag about anyone but myself." He paused a moment, then amended, "Well...mostly."

Waving the thought away, he continued, "You, you're the opposite. You're always thinking about everyone else, about what _they_ want, instead of what _you_ want."

The former Decepticon sent another pulse through his energy field, this one hot and heavy and full of promise. Skywarp smirked at the telltale hitch the other mech's intakes gave in response, at the rise in heat emanating from Prime's chassis.

_I knew it,_ he thought triumphantly.

"So I figure, maybe we can learn a little something from each other. Peel back our plating and see if we can't find this 'new leaf' of yours," he concluded, optics shifting upward to meet the Prime's. "You game?"

The Autobot leader pushed his hands away, once more retreating a few steps. "I have no intention of taking advantage of you in that way, Skywarp."

_Autobots._

"What _advantage_?" the Seeker demanded. "I'm _offering_, Prime! I'm offering because you're wound so tight you're ready to snap, and none of your stupid 'Bots even seems to notice! Too busy playing with their squishes to realize their leader hasn't had a decent overload in Primus-knows-how-long!"

"I don't–"

"_Please_," Skywarp scoffed, advancing on the larger mech again. "Leave the lying to the Decepticons, Prime. You Autobots suck at it."

The Prime tensed at his approach, looking more wary than aroused.

_Slag. This isn't working._

The former Decepticon halted, deciding to change his tactics.

"Look, I get it, alright?" he said in a softer, less scornful tone. "I get why you don't ask them for what you need. You want to be perfect for them, so they'll keep on believing in you." The Seeker made a derisive noise, expressing his opinion of _that_ notion. "It's like you said: Autobots weren't built for combat. They _need_ that slag to convince 'em to fight."

"But I _don't_ need it," the Seeker persisted. "I'm not like them, Prime – I'm a warrior, I was programmed to take orders from whoever's giving 'em, good, bad, or insane. So you don't need to pretend you're slagging Primus incarnate with me, okay?"

He looked up at him then, meeting the Autobot's startled blue optics with a look that was uncharacteristically sincere. "You're not perfect, and I don't care. You're a mech, just like me. I'm _fine_ with that. Besides, I –" he cut himself off abruptly, realizing he'd let his vocalizer get ahead of his processor.

"You what?" the Prime asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Pit, do I really have to say it?" Skywarp scowled, fidgeting awkwardly. A glance in the other mech's direction revealed a puzzled, inquiring expression. The Seeker huffed through his intakes, and muttered in a tone almost too low to register, "Iwnntto."

"Excuse me?"

_Frag, this is embarrassing._

"_I want to_, alright? I didn't think I would again, maybe not ever, but..." Skywarp cycled his vents in a sigh, muttering, "I guess I just kinda have a _thing_ for the big, quiet ones who worry too much."

This time it was Prime who closed the distance between them.

The Autobot's energy field was almost tentative as it brushed against his, but after a surprised astrosecond the Seeker welcomed it, echoing the subtle, inquiring _pulse_ with one of his own.

From there, things progressed rather quickly.

The Seeker soon discovered that despite being long denied, the Prime had _stamina_. Skywarp was quite sure he was better at 'facing than any pathetic Autobot – they had those short, blunt fingers that weren't nearly as effective as slim, tapering claws when it came to delving into narrow gaps in armor plating to stimulate sensitive circuitry – but Prime didn't surrender to a quick overload, oh no.

No, in spite of his best efforts, after a few breems it was _Skywarp_ who found himself gasping cooling air through his intakes in an attempt to keep his circuits from overheating, who had warnings of imminent overload flashing in his HUD, and he was beginning to think he might have to revise his opinion of blunt Autobot fingers based on what the Prime's were doing to his _wings_ – sweet Primus_, how did he even know how to_ do_ that?!_

This wouldn't do at all.

Dampening his own sensory grid to buy himself some time and a clearer CPU, Skywarp resumed his efforts with renewed determination. Claws designed to be swift and deadly, to rend and pierce the thickest of plating, now trailed along narrow seams in the Prime's armor plating with surprising delicacy, probing gaps to trace the contours of sensitive joints and circuitry, seeking out hidden hot spots.

The Seeker was _relentless._ He left no inch of the Prime's chassis unexplored, untouched, or uncaressed. From smokestacks and helm crests to the wheels lining his thighs, no part of the Autobot escaped the former Decepticon's passionate assault.

By the time Skywarp had circled 'round again, Prime was shuddering on the verge of overload. A sensual barrage from the Seeker's energy field pushed him over the edge.

The stalwart Autobot leader did indeed make some interesting noises as he overloaded; his rumbles of pleasure were only the second-deepest Skywarp had ever heard, and they vibrated right to the core of the Seeker's spark. He chose that precise moment to reactivate his sensory grid, just in time to feel the explosive rush of the Prime's release wash over him in a tidal surge, overwhelming his circuitry.

The overload made Skywarp stagger, clinging to the larger mech for support when the servos in his legs threatened to give way in the face of a seemingly endless torrent of electric ecstasy.

"_Primus_," the Seeker breathed, mildly embarrassed by how slagging _impressed_ he sounded, but too sated to really care, "How long have you been holding that in?"

The Prime just laughed. "Too long, it seems."

Skywarp smirked. "Glad to be of service."

_So what if it's not the most _noble_ function in the universe._

"Thank you," the Autobot said sincerely.

_At least I'm needed for _something_. At least I won't be _completely_ useless._

"Anytime, Prime," the former Decepticon replied lightly, pulling himself upright and pushing off the larger mech.

As he turned to leave, Prime called out to him, hesitation in his vocalizer. "Skywarp...wait."

The former Decepticon paused, but didn't turn around.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them," the Seeker assured him, anticipating the Autobot's request. "Your secret is safe. I won't say anything to anyone."

The undertone of bitterness in his own vocalizer surprised him.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask," the Prime said.

The Seeker turned, intrigued in spite of himself. "Yeah? What did you want, then?"

"I'd like...that is, if you're willing, I'd prefer..."

"Spit it out, Prime," Skywarp said impatiently.

"I wonder...if you would mind calling me 'Optimus'?"

Scarlet optics widened in surprise.

"...sure," the Seeker replied, feeling suddenly flustered, a strange surge of elation shooting through his spark. "Sure, uh...Optimus."

The Pri– , no, _Optimus_ – smiled.

_New leaf, huh?_ Skywarp thought, ducking his head to hide a smile of his own.

_Yeah. New leaf._

***fin***_  
_


End file.
